


Keep Your Enemies Close

by Betweenthepies (Reikiari)



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Character Development, Chirpy Boyfriends being lame, Kent Parson through the ages, Las Vegas Aces, M/M, Providence Falconers, Snapshots of Kent in the NHL, Texting, Various NHL teams, because you can't have Kent Parson without angst but i also need him to be happy, brief mentions of past Kent Parson/Jack Zimmermann
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-10 19:21:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8933449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reikiari/pseuds/Betweenthepies
Summary: Kent Parson knows three things.1. Hockey is his life, and his life is hockey.2. He isn't straight.3. He cannot be the only hockey player in the NHL that isn't straight.Kent Parson is wrong about one of these three things, and it takes him way too long to realize it.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [McBangle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/McBangle/gifts).



> Happy Holidays, here, have some Patater.
> 
> To McBangle:  
> Happy Holidays from your Secret Santa! (not so secret anymore ahahaha) I was so nervous writing for you omg. I hope you like it, and I'm sorry it was posted so late. (if you don't like it I'll write you something else ahhhh)
> 
> Check Please! belongs to the wonderful Ngozi.
> 
> This was loosely inspired by the song [Bedroom Warfare by ONE OK ROCK](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a0mnMzAAv7Q), and beta-ed by the lovely [ladysaraharper](http://ladysaraharper.tumblr.com/) (@[piesnpucks](http://piesnpucks.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr, she's the best I swear).
> 
> Any remaining mistakes that I didn't catch are my fault I'm sorry.

**90.7 FM – VEGAS SPORT RADIO – FEB 27, 2010**

**“** Thanks for tuning in to Vegas Sports radio. Ladies and gentlemen, today we have special guest Kent Parson, first overall pick in last year’s NHL draft. So Kent, how do you feel about your first season here with the Aces so far?”

“I’m living my childhood dreams right now, and it still feels so unreal. But hockey is my life, so nothing was ever going to stop me, or will ever stop me, from going all the way up to the top of the NHL.”

"Wow, so serious haha! We'd all thought you'd be partying by now! So you heard it here first, folks! Looks like the Aces will be getting the Stanley Cup soon, so start saving up money for those post-season tickets!"

**LVA @ PHI - JUN 9, 2010 – LVA (4), PHI (3) OT**

_“Did that go in?”_

_“Yes! Yes it did!”_

_“Ladies and Gentlemen, for the first time in franchise history, the Las Vegas Aces are the Stanley Cup Champions, with rookie Kent Parson taking it in overtime!”_

Kent is smashed into the boards by his teammates, and he still can’t believe it. He just won the Stanley Cup in his rookie year, and scored the game winning goal. He can hear banging on the glass behind him and giddy laughter from his teammates, but all he can think is  _holy shit. This isn’t real._

But it is real, and before he knows what is going on he is carrying the Conn Smythe trophy in his hands, then hoisting the Stanley Cup over his head and getting drenched in champagne. He feels arms around him and someone yells in his ear.

“Gonna have all the girls after you tonight, Parser!” In the commotion, no one notices Kent’s small flinch.

He doesn’t want the girls and he never will, but no one needs to know that. He loses himself in the celebration and the alcohol, and doesn’t care if people hear him singing Taylor Swift or Britney between refrains of We Are the Champions.

No one needs to know.

**JUL 04, 2010**

“Yes, thank you, it’s an honour. Thank you so much. Okay, good bye.”

“Happy Birthday, Kenny!” Kent’s mom walks in on him holding his phone in his hands, staring at it with wide eyes. “Kenny, is something wrong?”

“Mom… I’m the captain of the Aces.”

“Oh, congratulations!” She wraps her arms around him, but doesn’t realise how stiff he is.

_Would they take captaincy away if they found out I was gay?_

_I’m not ready._

_I’ve never been captain, I can’t, it was always Ja-_

“Sorry, I need to go to the bathroom.” He feels the bile rising in his throat, and he hates it.

**CHI @ LVA - OCT 27, 2010 – CHI (9), LVA (2)**

_“Hello, and welcome to tonight’s Daily Recap. I’m Ross Donald, and here with me is Tom Jones.”_

_“Today was not a good game for the home team, Ross.”_

_“No Tom, it really wasn’t. The Aces spent a lot of time in the box, and the PK was just not good enough.”_

_“We saw one goal each from the top two lines, and even then, it seemed like they were individual efforts from Kent Parson and Jeff Troy.”_

_“The Aces seem to be stuck so far this year, and people are wondering whether they’ll even have a chance of making playoffs.”_

_“Ruts like these are why people question Parson’s ability as a captain, which didn’t seem to happen with Crosby or with Toews, who scored 2 of the Hawks’ 9 goals tonight.”_

_“Parson’s a great individual player, but can he lead his team to a second Stanley Cup?”_

_“Well, I’d like to say- “_

Jeff switches the channel from behind him and Kent growls in protest. “Hey asshole, I was watching that.”

“Try not to watch shit that brings you down, it’s not going to help.” Jeff hands him a bottle of Gatorade, then swings over the back of the couch, landing with a thump. “No alcohol for you tonight, Cap.”

They sit in silence while Kent glares angrily at his Gatorade, then at his alternate. He considers getting up to grab a beer himself. After tonight’s shit show, he deserves some form of comfort, and sex definitely isn’t an option, what with him still being in the closet. “Swoops, this is my fault. We haven’t been producing after I became captain, they’re going to trade me and I’m going to be known as a failure.”

“First of all, bullshit, it’s still early in the season,” says Jeff angrily. Kent looks up at him, surprised at the anger. “Second, no one’s trading you, Parse, that’d be stupid. As dumb as you are, we need you.” Kent punches Jeff in the arm, and takes a swig of his Gatorade. The channel that Jeff had switched to turns out to be a nature channel, the TV now playing a documentary about the Antarctic. The two Aces watch penguins huddle together on the icebergs of Antarctica to share warmth. The scene is peaceful, and quite beautiful to say the least.

 Kent, however, can’t seem to calm down. He fidgets, moving the bottle of Gatorade from one hand to the other, pulling at the fabric of the shorts, biting at the inside of his lip.

“Is something bothering you, Parse?” asks Jeff, the concern evident in his voice. “You know I’m here if you need to talk, right?”

_I’m not good enough at this._

_I can’t be a good enough captain._

_I’m going to disappoint everybody._

_I’m gay and I’m tired of hiding it._

_I just want to play hockey._

“I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.”

**58 th** **NHL ALL-STAR GAME – JAN 29-30, 2011**

Kent always knew that it was statistically impossible that he be the only LGBTQ+ player in the NHL. What with numbers and stats defining his whole life, he knows to trust the math.

However, he never expected to find proof.

And it was solid, unrefutable proof at that.

He’s glad he remembered to pack his turtleneck Under Armor, the one that goes all the way up, higher than the normal ones usually do.

Kent smirks at Haille when they line up, watching their centres get ready for the face-off. The other player flushes like he did just a few hours earlier, and Kent knows it’s not from playing. After all, the game had just begun. As a result of the distraction, Haille reacts late and Kent snags the puck as it is hit away from the face-off.

He realizes that there is a reason why people say to keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.

**LVA @ SEA – MAR 05, 2011 – LVA (5), SEA (0)**

Kent doesn’t like this. He doesn’t like winning like this.

When Kent had given Cheyne a blowjob and more in his apartment last week after Seattle’s loss in Las Vegas, he expected nothing big to change on the ice in Seattle. That was not the case. Cheyne wouldn’t come within a foot of him on the ice. Kent knew that Cheyne was nervous about the possibility of his entire career bursting into flames if Kent spilled the secrets as revenge for a hard hit, but hits were part of the game and Kent wasn’t that much of an asshole. Besides, they had both agreed that secrets would be kept under any and all circumstances. Kent thought his reputation as a person was better than that.

The lack of coverage meant that the Aces had way too many looks at the net. Obviously, someone had called the Schooner out on it during the second intermission, because the next time they had been on the ice together, Cheyne had gone after him incessantly, eventually landing a dirty hit that had sent Kent sprawling to the ice, head reeling, hands clutching at his side, and blood dripping down a cut on his cheek. A brawl had broken out as the Aces came out to defend their captain, and Cheyne had been ejected. The momentum shifted even further in favour of the Aces, and they had won the game 5-0.

Kent leaves Seattle with a hat trick, but he is not happy.

As much as he likes winning, Kent doesn’t want to be known among the small crew of closeted players as the one winning games one blowjob at a time, nor does he want to risk unnecessary injury.

So, although Kent wants to have sex, and as convenient it is doing it with guys who know the gravity of keeping it under wraps, he isn’t going to try it again in the near future.

**LVA @ VAN – MAY 24, 2011 – LVA (2), VAN (3) OT**

_“And the Canucks take it in overtime, 4 games to 1 to advance to the Stanley Cup finals!”_

Kent slams his stick on the ice, but controls his anger and frustration. This was embarrassing, he was a disappointment, and his team deserved so much better.

Haille gives him the dirtiest, sleaziest smirk in the handshake line and tries to pull him closer. Kent grits his teeth and bites back a snarl, resisting the tug.

“Be that way,” whispers the Canuck as he passes by Kent’s ear to reach for the next hand. “See you next season, Parson.”

Kent holds back a  _fuck you._

**LAK @ LVA – OCT 08, 2011 – LAK (1), LVA (3)**

_“The Aces start the season off with a bang!”_

Kent skates down the ice to give his goalie a tap on the head. Something feels different about this year. He hopes it’s good.

**PVD @ LVA - DEC 06, 2011 – PVD (2), LVA (3)**

_“Looking at the numbers, the Falcs have really benefitted from their newly acquired forward from the KHL.”_

_“Yeah, Alexei Mashkov has been putting up the assists and the goals, leading anyone else on his team by 10 points.”_

_“We’ll see if he can make something happen tonight, as the game is tied 2-2 in the final minute of the game.”_

_“Parson, going for the puck sent in by Milinkovic to the corner of the Falconers zone.”_

_“Mashkov is fighting for it, and...”_

_“The Aces come up with it, a centering pass to Troy, and he scores!”_

_“Vegas has pulled ahead with two seconds left in the game!”_

Kent watches his teammates begin to gather for a celly, but he takes a moment to skate up behind Mashkov. “Nice try there,” he says, wearing the shit-eating grin he knows gets him into the worst situations, but hey, what could Mashkov do in two seconds?

“муда́к,” he hears Mashkov say. He knows enough Russian to know that it was just the term for ‘asshole’, so he keeps his grin plastered on his face as he throws Mashkov a wink.

“Thanks,” Kent says, and he skates off towards the celly with his arms raised, leaving Mashkov behind him.

**59 th** **NHL ALL-STAR WEEKEND – JAN 28-29, 2012**

_“And that concludes the skills competitions, folks, we will see you all tomorrow for the all-star game!”_

When his arm hits something warm as he stretches in bed to wake up, Kent knows something is not quite right. Slowly rolling onto his side, he sees a mop of brown hair peeking out from under the covers. Whoever is under the blankets in his bed is not a woman, and that is a problem, especially with the number of media around for all-star coverage.

Woken up by the contact and the movement, the body slowly turns to face Kent. Alexei Mashkov emerges from the heavy blanket, sleep-tousled, red marks curling up over his shoulders and most likely down his back. “Is… is time to play already?”

“What the fuck are you doing in my room.” It comes out of Kent as more of a statement than a question.

“Is my room,” mumbles Mashkov, not yet coherent. “Out very late, come back here to room, have sex, then sleep.”

Kent faintly remembers the night at the bar. How he ended up with Mashkov however, is lost to him. He lifts the covers, and although he is not wearing anything -he sees his underwear hanging off the back of the chair across the room - he is clean, meaning either Mashkov cleaned up, or he was lying.

Seeing that Kent was not about to say anything, Mashkov begins burrowing his way back into the blanket. “If you go, leave number, phone on table, I sleep more.” The Russian turns back over, pulling the blankets with him, leaving Kent with very little left to cover his lower half.

“Wait, you want to stay in touch?”

Now Mashkov is awake. He sits up and looks at Kent, blanket falling to expose his bare upper body. Mashkov seems confused, then switches to a serious face as he answers. “Of course. I not know many other bisexual people in NHL. Is lonely.” He reaches past Kent for his phone, unlocking it and shoving it into Kent’s hands. “Don’t worry, I know is secret. Last night we careful.”

Kent looks at Mashkov, then at the phone, then back at Mashkov, not bothering to hide that he was judging him. Finally, he makes a decision. “Not bi, gay,” he says, as he types in his contact information. “And this doesn’t change anything, alright?”

“What not change?” asks Mashkov.

“Hockey is hockey, and hockey is life for me. This is a secret that changes nothing. You and I, we’re enemies once we leave this room, got it? Don’t you dare bring this to the ice.”

Mashkov nods, still serious. “Yes. No change. Hockey life for me too.”

Kent swings his legs over the side of the bed, giving Mashkov a full view of his back as he goes to retrieve his clothes. “Alright then. I’ll see you on the ice in a few hours.” He pulls on his clothes, and it doesn’t slip by his attention that as he picks up each article of clothing in order and puts it on, it leads him right to the door. He smirks, opens the door, and leaves.

_“An exciting game on the ice tonight!”_

_“Mashkov and Parson are giving the fans what they want!”_

_“Is it to early to tell these guys we’ll see them next all-star game? Hahahaha”_

_“It’s a battle of speed and strength, and they’ve been evenly matched!”_

_“Truly an amazing game of hockey.”_

**LVA @ PHI – FEB 20, 2012 – LVA (1), SJS (0)**

**(11:42 pm) Unknown:** Good game tonight ))))))) Could not find number before this. Why name Kendall?

 **(11:56 pm)** Thanks. Back at you.  It’s a precaution.

 **(11:56 pm) Unknown:** Okay. Celebrating tonight?

 **(11:57 pm)** Not going out, but if you wanna ;)

 **(12:05 am) LEXI:** am home now

**Dialling…. Calling LEXI….**

“Hey.”

 

**LVA @ PVD – MAR 23, 2012 – LVA (2), PVD (3)**

The Aces had landed in Providence the morning of the 22nd. They had a free evening, and Kent had been sure to let Mashkov know. He looks at the address on his phone, and seeing that it was not too far from the hotel, he decides to walk, but not before removing any and all Aces gear from his person and putting on a pair of sunglasses and a beanie.

He arrives at Mashkov’s place and is buzzed in.

He is back at the hotel before curfew, the marks on his chest and back covered by layers of clothing. After all, he had hockey to play the next day.

_“It was definitely a game for the ages tonight, Bill! Non-stop, back and forth action!”_

_“A couple of well placed screens put the Falconers on top, but a great match between two great teams that don’t see each other often.”_

_“Fans can only dream of seeing more matchups of these two teams during the regular season.”_

 

**PVD @ NYR – APR 26, 2012 – PVD (2), NYR (3)**

Kent watches the Falconers lose from his living room, his first round having finished early when they beat the Blackhawks 4-2.  _The first knock out is always the hardest,_ he thinks. He sends a text to Mashkov while walking to his bedroom to get things ready.

The time zone difference is always appreciated. Kent never has to stay up late.

**LAK @ LVA – MAY 22, 2012 – LAK (3), LVA (2) OT**

It is always frustrating to lose in overtime, but even more so to do so in the conference finals. Kent refuses to acknowledge the tears in his eyes as he steps off the ice. He will lead his team to another Cup, it’s just a matter of when.

He thinks about texting Mashkov, but he knows that the Russian player has flown home for a visit. His only solace is that Kit is waiting for him in his apartment. He can’t wait to leave the rink.

**2012 NHL AWARDS – JUNE 20, 2012 – LAS VEGAS**

Mashkov - no, it’s Alexei now, they’ve slept together enough that calling out Mashkov was weird - has an arm around him and is plastered to his back when he wakes up. Kent squirms, uncomfortable in the heat. As he tries to break free he is stopped by the tightening of Alexei's arm around him. He feels something prodding him just below the hips, and he rolls his eyes.

“I know you’re awake.” He feels Alexei smile into the crook of his neck.

“I know,” says the Russian.

What did his teammates call Alexei again? It started with a T- oh right. Kent turns so that they are face-to-face. “So Tater, you want another round?” he asks.

Alexei scrunches up his face. “Is weird if you say Tater. Not sexy. No one call ‘Potato’ in sex. Alexei, please.”

Kent rolls his eyes again, about to make a comment about hockey nicknames, but Alexei shuts him up by slotting their lips together.

They go for another round.

 

**DEC 06, 2012 – NHL LOCKOUT**

**(8:06 AM) LEXI:** Is back now? KHL no fun, I bored, beat everyone.

 **(12:40 PM)** Shut up you’re lying

 **(12:40 PM)** we’re trying just tell the guys over there to wait.

 **(9:00 PM) LEXI:** (((((((((

 

**JAN 06, 2013 – END OF NHL LOCKOUT NEGOTIATIONS**

**(5:00 AM)** Happy now?

 **(5:10 AM) LEXI:**  )))))))))))))

 **(5:10 AM) LEXI:** I come home soon, book ticket

 **(8:23 AM)** good

 **(8:24 AM) Draft saved -** i missed you, fucker -  **send or delete?**

**...**

**(7:16 PM)** i missed you, fucker

 **(7:39 PM) LEXI:** Really? just fuck or fucker too?

 **(7:40 PM)** i take it back stay in Russia you suck

 **(7:40 PM) LEXI:** )))

 **(7:41 PM)** im done with you. 

**NYR @ LVA – JUN 13, 2014 – NYR (2), LVA (3)**

It has been two years since Kent started texting Alexei, and they have not stopped. They text through the Aces' early playoff exit in the 2013 playoffs, through Kent's summer back in Albany, and even from opposite ends of the couch in Kent's house in the 2013/2014 season when the Falconers came to visit. They text enough for  **LEXI**  to always be at the top of Kent’s messages, where before it had usually been his mom, his sister, or Jeff.

The Aces are at the bar, celebrating. They have once again brought the cup to Vegas, after taking the series 4 games to 1. Kent had a feeling that they were good this year at the beginning of the season, but the Aces blew through the league and almost walked their way through the post-season. Standing near his teammates, he can hear some of the guys talking the rookies into getting Stanley Cup tattoos and he laughs, because he knows that the tattoo parlors in Las Vegas will be seeing Aces both young and old in the near future.

He draws back from the crowd to take a breather and pulls out his phone. In the middle of the alcohol and the dancing and cheering, Kent fails to notice that a group is sneaking up on him.

“Cap!” Swoops and Milo sandwich him while Lass pulls his phone out of his hands. “What are you doin’ over here?! Getting your second one means more celebrating, not less.”

Lassen swipes through his phone, while Swoops and Milo ruffle his hair, Kent playfully batting their hands away. “Oo, would you look at that, Parser has a mystery girl.” The forward has pulled up his messages and holds it in front of Swoops and Milo. Kent freezes, knowing exactly which conversation is at the top of his list.

 **(4:24 PM) LEXI:** Good luck tonight )))

 **(5:00 PM)** Thanks. Not that we’ll need it. ;)

 **(5:10 PM) LEXI:** See, now you jinx. Have fun losing

 **(5:11 PM)** wow I’m hurt I thought you wanted me to win.

 **(5:11 PM) LEXI:** Call only if win ))

 **(5:12 PM)** then you better believe we’ll beat the shit out of the Rangers tonight ;)

 **(5:12 PM) LEXI:** Go finish getting ready, will be cheering, put away winky face no one need

 **(5:12 PM)**  ;) ;) ;) ;)

 **(11:06 PM) LEXI:** Congratulations! ))))))

“Lexi, huh? She hot?”

Kent laughs, and hopefully it doesn’t sound as nervous as he feels. “Yeah, super hot. Totally out of your league Lass, keep it in your pants, for fuck’s sake. Your girl actually deserves so much better,” he says. Lass pouts, and Swoops laughs loudly at how out of place the expression looks on the veteran player. “She’s just one of my close friends,” Kent adds. “We’re not dating or anything,” Reaching out, he takes his phone back from Lass and slips it into his back pocket.

“Really? It seems flirting, Parser,” says Milo, accent heavy because of the alcohol.

Swoops reaches around Kent and taps Milo on the forehead. “Dude, Parse’s default is flirty. He flirts with anyone and anything; walls, cats, his own reflection in the mirror, you name it, he’s flirted with it.” Kent hip checks Swoops for the comment and receives raised eyebrows in return, as if asking him to prove otherwise. They break eye contact and Swoops facewashes Lass, which he knows that the other man hates. The effect is lost without a sweaty glove, but the other Ace swipes back and growls half-heartedly. Jeff laughs. “Besides, don’t read people’s shit, rude-ass.”

Milo grabs Lass and spins him around, pushing him back towards the crowd. “Lassie rude, must buy drink.” Lass protests as the defenseman muscles him closer to the bar.

Kent is still standing stiffly with a hand over his back pocket where his phone is as they walk away. Swoops pats him on the shoulder, then walks back towards the crowd. “I’m sure they’re great, whoever they are. They’re lucky to have you, Parse,” he says.

Kent is left alone by the wall, processing Swoops’ use of ‘they’ instead of ‘she’.

(Kent asks him about it after they’ve both retired, as they sit on Kent's deck watching Alexei and Jeff's wife play around with the kids. Jeff shrugs. “Well, I don’t like to assume. Besides, you were already an ass, I didn’t want to be one too.” Kent punches the other man in the arm for the overused joke, and Jeff just laughs.)

 

**LVA @ BOS – DEC 14, 2014 – LVA (1), BOS (3)**

_“Hello, welcome to Saturday Night Sports with Charles Hedden and Mack Dunwall!”_

_“First on the list, the NHL. We’ve been hearing the rumours of the return of a Zimmermann to NHL ice!”_

_“Yes, we’ve seen many scouts at Samwell games, and now that Jack Zimmermann is graduating, many teams are looking to get their hands on such a well-rounded player.”_

_“A player who some argue is entering the League six years too late.”_

_“Both the Montreal Canadiens and the Providence Falconers have been seen in the stands, and Boston, Dallas, and even Las Vegas have been on the lookout.”_

_“Speaking of Las Vegas, a very exciting match up tomorrow on the east coast, with Las Vegas playing Boston at TD Garden.”_

_“Playing at 7:00 PM Eastern, so don’t miss it!”_

Kent thought he had moved past what happened at the draft. Sure, he still had nightmares sometimes. Sure, he checks in with the team psychiatrist sometimes. But all the speculation and the predictions and the discussions brings 2009 crashing back into view and he hates it. He hates that Jack Zimmermann is still at the forefront of his mind. He hates that even though hockey is hockey, after five years, hockey is still Jack. 

And because his hockey is still Jack, he winds up in a taxi taking him from Samwell to Providence at two in the morning. Kent is only slightly drunk, but his emotions are making it worse. Alexei’s address is saved on his phone, however he makes the driver drop him off at the hotel that the Aces occupy when in Providence and he walks the rest of the way. He begins to call the Falconer the minute he leaves the taxi. Four calls go to voicemail before Alexei picks up, groggy and definitely not awake.

“Hello… Who?”

Kent, now standing outside the apartment building, grew impatient. “It’s me. Let me up.”

“Kent?” Alexei’s accent is heavier than usual, the emphasis on an invisible ‘y’ evident. “Curfew in Boston. Why here?”

“No questions, just let me up.”

A buzz and an elevator ride later, Kent is at the doorstep.

 **(3:02 AM)** im outdife

“Is open,” he hears Alexei say from inside. Kent fumbles with the door handle but makes his way past the threshold. Without answering any questions he strides over to the Russian man that had been waiting with a mug of something in hand. He tugs Alexei down and crashes their lips together forcefully, not allowing the other man to speak. He's had enough of trying to talk his way through his emotions.  _It's not like it ever works._

Kent is faintly aware of Alexei's grunt of surprise and the thunk of the mug on a nearby surface, but none of that registers as important to him. They move against each other, Kent’s hand still fisted in Alexei’s collar until they break apart, breathless.

“Why is my hockey him? Why is it always Jack Zimmermann?” Kent cries. “Why is my hockey still Jack Zimmermann?!” He knows the words are tumbling out like nonsense, but he doesn't know how else to phrase it. Losing his ability to vocalise his thoughts, Kent lets go of Alexei and buries his face in his hands. He feels strong arms wrap around him and pick him up as the tears he held back while at Samwell run down his cheeks.

He wakes up in Providence fully clothed, curled up on his side with no recollection of what happened after he crossed Alexei’s doorstep. Said Russian is nowhere to be seen, but the bed is still radiating the warmth of another person, meaning that he had been there. The door opens and the man in question walks in, holding Kent’s jacket, a takeout cup of coffee, and a breakfast sandwich.

“We do nothing last night, if you want to know. I call for taxi back to Boston, make sure driver sign NDA. You have game,” he says, his expression unreadable. “Will have time, I thinking, if you go now.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Kent gets out from under the covers and stands, not looking Tater in the eye as he grabs the food and his jacket. He walks to the door and slips on shoes that he doesn’t remember taking off.

“See you,” he says.

Alexei hmms in reply, standing back against the wall with his arms crossed as Kent opens the door and leaves.  

Traffic delays Kent’s trip back to Boston. He gets an earful for being late to the team meeting, and returns to his hotel room with no text from Tater. The only new messages on his phone are angry texts from Swoops.

_“For the first time in his career, Kent Parson is a healthy scratch!”_

_“The Aces are going to have to battle the Bruins tonight without their captain, their leading scorer.”_

_“No statement has been released, but speculations have risen from various tweets that saw Parson at a college party, an… epic kegger? Kegster? Epikegster, it says here.”_

_“Well, this just gives evidence to those who still say that Parson is not fit to lead a team, though the Aces won the cup last year.”_

_“This doesn’t say anything about Parson except immature.”_

**LVA @ PVD – FEB 14, 2015 – LVA (2), PVD (1) OT**

It has been two months. Kent has not texted Alexei at all, but the other man has not texted him either.

Kent had grown to love playing Providence over the past couple of seasons. Playing the Falcs was always interesting, because playing against Alexei was interesting.

As much as he would like to deny it, Kent knows that he may like Mashkov more than he wants to admit. Anytime they skated on the same ice, it made him think of how 17-year-old Kent felt skating next to the one he had loved back then. But this was the NHL, and he had made Mashkov promise back when they had first began whatever their arrangement was that hockey was hockey, and bedroom was bedroom. The two were never going to mix, and their relationship was built on that.

However, the game against Providence is not going the way he thought it would go, and Kent is not happy.

With how the other Falconers are playing it is not obvious, but Alexei is avoiding him like the plague. Kent notices though, because on any other day Tater would always be right behind him, fighting for the pucks along the boards, chasing him all the way down to the goal line. Kent skates faster and harder than ever before, in a way taunting Alexei, saying  _catch me if you can_. He knows he’s playing a dangerous game by trying to tug on emotions, but he is determined not to lose the balance that they’ve found for the past few years.

It is a flashback to that game all those years ago in Seattle. Once again, the game’s dynamic is all over the place, and the discomfort is making his skin crawl.

By the end of the second period, both the Aces and the Falconers are tired from the fast-paced, end-to-end hockey that they have been playing. In the third, the Aces maintain their speed, streaking down the ice and keeping the possession, firing relentlessly and grabbing the rebounds before the Falcs can get to it. The Falconers finally clear it far enough, and as both lines go for a change, Kent hops over the boards and onto the ice. Seeing the relatively empty ice, Kent circles back to the boards in neutral ice and knows that a pass is coming to him. He tilts his head down for a second to locate the puck, and-

He should have seen this coming. He played that game against Seattle, against Cheyne.

He thought Tater was different, that this was finally going to work, that whatever happened off-ice wouldn’t affect their game.

_I shouldn’t have believed._

Alexei slams him against the boards, hitting his shoulders, but because of how he is positioned, the back of Kent's head hits the glass. As he crumples to the ice, he faintly hears a whistle. As a mass of players congregate and begin pushing gloves and fists in each other’s faces, Kent crawls away from the feet, putting some distance between his face and metal blades.

“Parson? Son? Can you hear me?”

Kent hears the voice of the training staff, and replies. “The back of my head hurts a bit.”

He feels a pat on his back as an arm snakes under his and helps him up. “We’ll take you in for concussion protocol, okay?”

Kent stood, leaning slightly on the shorter man at his side. He can’t go over the boards, so the trainer leads him around the scrum that is beginning to break up. As they skate by, Alexei looks away from Milinkovic and the official that is trying to separate them to stare at Kent. They make eye contact, and Kent doesn’t know what to make of the worry that slips on to Alexei’s face, but he doesn’t think about it as he steps off the ice and into the hallway.

In the quiet space provided for concussion protocol, Kent is led through the series of tests and evaluations, and it is easy to just follow instructions and not have to think. He doesn’t know how long it takes, or what the score of the game is, but he realised that he doesn’t really care.

“Alright, you’re clear on the concussion, but take it easy, alright? Maybe steer clear of Mashkov.” The trainer gives him a pat on the shoulder, and opens the door. When Kent steps out, he hears the final horn sound, and shouts of “OT, let’s go, let’s go,” he heads to the locker room to wait for his teammates. They stream in one by one, and when they’re all settled in, rehydrating and wiping sweat, the coach begins to strategize.

“Parson, you cleared?” Kent nods, and the coaches nod in acknowledgement.

“Okay, then Parse, Swoops, Lass, I want you guys in first, with Milo and Steens.” The coaches want this game to end quickly. Kent grins despite himself, and stands.

“C’mon boys, we all want to get out of here, so let’s go!” Cheers go up around the room, and although they have played a full game, he knows his Aces are ready to go. Kent chews on his mouth guard as he waits for the signal to head out. He isn’t going to let anything interfere with his game. Not like Haille, not like Cheyne, not like Alexei. He is the captain of the Aces, two-time Stanley Cup Champion. He has been doing this for years, and he is not about to give in.

Soon they are back on the ice, and the puck drops.

_“Troy wins the face-off. Lassen comes up with it and moves into the Falcs zone with Parson.”_

_“Lassen, drops it back to Milinkovic, to Stine, to Parson, a one-timer, and he scores!”_

_“A nasty angle, but Parson puts it past the glove of Snow and the Aces take it in overtime!”_

Kent is wrapped in a huddle with the other Aces, and they skate back to the bench, where the others are already heading down the hallway to the locker room. He is ready to go to the hotel and pass out, with their flight to Vegas only coming in the morning.

“Got plans tonight, Parse?” asks Swoops once they are in the locker room. He expected to have plans before tonight’s game, but he doesn’t anymore.

“Gonna Skype my cat,” replies Kent as he undoes his skates. “I was told to take it easy.”

“Yeah, Mashkov really went for you there huh?” comments Lassen as he pulls his socks down.

“He not usually as rough,” says Milinkovic. “Mashkov hit hard, but no dirty. Different today.”

Kent shrugs and just continues to get out of his hockey gear. “People change, you know?” It is Milo's turn to shrug, and the Aces continue to get ready to leave.

Once most of the boys clear out, Kent grabs his coat and pulls his hat over his head, but he is stopped by Swoops' hand on his shoulder. “You okay, Parse?”

“Yeah, I’m just going to head back though. No concussion, I swear.” Swoops doesn’t look appeased, but he lets go.

“We’ll talk another day. Go get some rest. Don’t skype your cat for too long; she doesn’t miss you that much.”

“Does she like you at all? No. So shut up. Kit loves me. You should know that she’s the only girl for me, the only one I need.” Kent winks, fixing his jacket then draping his scarf around his neck. He walks away from his alternate, and only turns at the doorway. Kent smirks, hoping he looks like he does on any other day. “Have fun for me, fucker. Enjoy the alcohol.” Jeff narrows his eyes at the remark. 

“ _Parse-_ ” But Kent is already gone.

Once Kent is back in his room, he changes into a hoodie and a pair of shorts. The shorts feel weird, and looking in the mirror, he sees that they’re the pair that his sister had gotten him as a gag gift for his birthday. They are black but short, barely hitting mid-thigh. “Hopefully these will help emphasize the booty you don’t have,” she had said. Well, it was certainly tight. Kent shrugged. He was going to go sit under the covers anyways. Less fabric meant he could stay under the covers for longer without getting too warm.

He finally decided to check his phone, which he has been avoiding. He looks, and there it is, Alexei Mashkov for the first time in two months. However, instead of the single text he expected, a string of texts fill his screen.

 **(11:30 pm) LEXI:** NO TEXT IN LONG TIME BUT YOU IS OKAY?

 **(11:30 pm) LEXI:** I AM SORRY, HIT NOT MEAN TO HAPPEN AS IT DID

 **(11:30 pm) LEXI:** sorry, I forget caps

 **(11:31 pm) LEXI:** ((((( i really hope you ok

 **(11:32 pm) LEXI:** please say something

 **(11:37 pm) LEXI:** okay, I come to hotel. I ask alternate already.

 **(11:38 pm) Swoops:** yo, heads up, Mashkov said he wants to apologise or something so I sent him your way. I mean they already lost, so ease up on the man when he gets there, alright?

Kent looks at the clock.  **12:03.** He scowls at his screen, typing out a reply to Swoops first.  _Ask me first, dipshit. And spell apologize right._  He is about to send a text to Tater to tell him not to come when he hears knocks on the door. Lying down and flipping the covers over his head, he hides. The knocking stops, then starts again, louder this time. When they stop again, Kent sighs in relief, but when his phone rings and blares Britney Spears, he curses. Kent quickly swipes away the call to silence his phone, but receives a text immediately.

 **(12:06 am) LEXI:** I hear phone, please let me in

 **(12:06 am) LEXI:** just want to talk to face

 **(12:07 am)** Go away. There’s nothing to talk about.

 **(12:07 am) LEXI:** I stay here then. Practice optional tomorrow.

 **(12:08 am)** Go home.

Kent hears a thud against the door and he knows that Tater has sat down against it. The time continues to pass, and his phone receives no messages. The later it gets, the more the boys will start filtering in from their night out. Reluctantly, Kent moves towards the door and opens it. Tater has fallen asleep, so he jolts awake as he falls backwards on to Kent's feet. He looks dead tired as he slowly blinks to focus, his gaze moving upwards to zero in on Kent’s face but not without pausing at the tight shorts first. Kent bites the inside of his lip when their eyes meet, then turns around to go back into the room. Tater is still propped up on his elbows on the ground. “Get in here before anyone else sees you, idiot.”

“But Troy know that I am here,” says Tater as he closes the door behind him. The Falconer walks further into the room, and Kent is scrolling through his phone, sitting cross-legged on the bed.

“What do you want, Mashkov?” asks Kent without looking up from the screen.

“What I do wrong?” asks the Russian in return. “Is hit? I know, is hurt, but lost game already. Is it because I no text? I thinking you want Zimmermann so I-”

Kent throws his phone down on his bed, gets up, and stands face-to-face with the other player. “You played differently around me because of what happens away from the ice, because we're having sex. That’s what you did wrong. You promised me that you wouldn’t, and that was my only condition." _A condition I thought I made pretty fucking clear too,_  he thought. 

"I can’t do this with you if I win games because you can’t focus, and I’m not risking injury because of you trying to compensate for something.” He turns around so he is no longer looking directly at Alexei, and all the Russian has to look at is the back of his head. “Hockey is my life, Mashkov," he says, voice hard, trying to make sure his point is getting across. "I’m not going to cheat my way through it, and I’m sure as hell not going to risk losing it. So, that’s what you did wrong. Now that you know, get the fuck out.”

The room is silent, and that is the only way Kent knows that Alexei has not left. He refuses to turn around to look at the Russian man. Kent exhales, frustrated when he hears no movement. “I have a flight tomorrow, can you g-”

“I not distracted,” says Alexei, cutting him off. “It was change in strategy. Coaches say I focus too much on you in other games, so I'm being told to 'actually pay attention to the rest of the team, dammit'. Mean to hit because you hard to stop, but hurt was accident.”

“But you-”

“Listen, please. I try to make sense.” The Russian player grabs Kent by the shoulders and turns him around so that they are once again face to face. Kent stares at the man he has been sleeping with almost exclusively for the past two years, and it is difficult to look away. “I love skating on ice with you. Hockey fun with you. Very- How do you say, unknown? New? I don’t know. I never go easy because then is no fun. On ice, yes, be like enemies.”

“We agree, so-” Kent tries to break free, but the taller player refuses to be shaken off.

“I know, you say hockey is life for you and you say hockey is Zimmermann so I guess life is Zimmermann, but if that way then life for me is you. You must see, hockey is life because is what we do, Kent, but away from ice is life too. I like Kent Parson. He is Aces Captain, yes. He is Stanley Cup winner, two times, yes. But he also love cat who not like anyone else but him. And he also like dessert more than chicken. And he also cries in sleep when even he does not know.”

“Tater, I-”

Alexei moves one of his hands from Kent’s shoulders upwards to his cheek, holding the eye-contact between them. “How to say- Life more than hockey, meaning you more than hockey too.” Green eyes widen at the words and time seems to stand still in the hotel room, even as voices pass by in the hallway. Slowly, Kent lifts his hand, gently removing Alexei’s fingers from his jawline.

“I think it’s time for you to go, Alexei,” he says. The words are soft, not coming out quite as clearly as Kent thought they would. Alexei takes his other hand away and visibly deflates. Kent breaks eye contact, looking at the bed instead, and he is surprised by how hard it is to not to reach out as heavy footsteps near the door. He hears the hotel door latch, but what follows it is not the opening of the door.

“С днём Святого Вапентина, Kent.”

With that, Alexei Mashkov steps out of his hotel room, and Kent feels like he has just lost something larger than a Stanley Cup final.

**FEB 16, 2015 – ACES MORNING PRACTICE – OPEN TO PUBLIC**

Kent pulls one of the Russian rookies aside as the locker room clears out after practice. “Hey, what does suh-denyom-svatova-valienteena mean?”

The rookie looks confused and taken aback, but pulls it together and answers in a heavy accent typical of new Russian rookies who typically used translators or just spoke through their hockey. “Um… How say… Happy… Happy Valentines Day.”

“…Thanks Kovy.”

**LVA @ DAL – FEB 19, 2015 – LVA (2), DAL (3)**

Kent does his best thinking on the ice. Off-ice, thinking turns into a large mess from which he can’t pick anything out. There is just something about the smoothness of motion and the rush of the game that allows him to think. In fact, it’s not so much that he thinks, but more like everything clears up. Like when he scored the game winning goal against the Kings in 2012, he decided he was going to buy a house. And the time he realised that he should visit his family more when his line did a tic-tac-toe that landed the puck in the net against the Blue Jackets in 2013. Kent makes all his life decisions on the ice, and it doesn’t really bother him, because the ice is at the centre of his life.

It takes skating through a hard check and making a successful assist after it to conclude that it is time for him to move past Jack no matter how hard it is and keep going forward, to where someone else has been waiting for him. After the game, Kent is eager to get off the ice and finish with media, but it is not because he lost the game.

It is always hard to handle losing a game, but Kent knows it is much harder to deal with losing someone, even though people are so much easier to lose.

He pulls out his phone and quickly types out a text, sending it before he can doubt himself again.  _Alexei will reply. It'll be fine. Holy shit, please don't let me fuck up again. Please._ The telltale pops indicate that the messages have gone through, and they stare back at him, as if taunting him that there was nothing more he could do. 

 **(12:30 AM)** Happy Belated Valentine’s Day.

 **(12:30 AM)** I'm sorry.

Kent lets out a slow breath and hopes that it’s enough, because in the past, it has never been enough.

 _I've never been enough,_ he thinks.

Not waiting for an answer, he puts his phone on his bedside table and pulls the covers high, waiting for sleep to come.

He wakes up the next morning to a message that almost makes him cry in relief. Kent doesn't need a mirror to know that he has the most stupid smile on his face as he looks down at his phone, the words blurring due to the build up of tears in his eyes. 

 **(7:10 AM) LEXI:**  Never too late for happy ))

 

**CHI @ LVA – MAY 11, 2015 – CHI (3), LVA (1)**

Kent drops onto his bed, throwing his bag to the ground. Its contents spill out onto the hardwood. He’ll have to go clean out his locker soon, do exit interviews, go through press conferences, the list goes on. He does not want to think about it. He grabs his phone and holds it above his face, hoping he doesn’t fall asleep and drop it on his nose.

 **(12:47 AM)** well now we’re both done

 **(12:47 AM) LEXI:** You play good. No worry. No one need two in row ;)

 **(12:47 AM)** oh now you add eyes? Okay then ((((((

 **(12:48 AM) LEXI:** I see you making fun. Very funny

 **(12:48 AM)** I’m hilarious, the funniest ever.

 **(12:49 AM) LEXI:** You know what not funny? Las Vegas heat even at midnight. Dying outside.

“No way.” Kent drops his phone, runs to his front door, unlocks it, and throws it open.

“Surprise?” asks Alexei, shoulders raised while holding his arms open.

Kent launches himself at the Russian and all but drags the larger man inside, stopping just to lock the door behind them. They barely make it to the bedroom, though they take their time at the doorframe and at the walls before making their way to the bed, maneuvering around the recently scattered hockey gear.

Alexei only gets an answer to his pseudo-question when they are wrapped around each other in the early hours of the morning, after they have cleaned themselves up and thrown the sheets in the laundry.

“A pleasant surprise,” Kent whispers, looking up from where he was tucked into Alexei's chest. The other man leans in and kisses his forehead.

"Я тебя люблю."

"I... I love you too."

 

**2015 NHL AWARDS – JUN 24, 2015 – LAS VEGAS**

**(10:07 AM) LEXI:** WHAT?

 **(10:07 AM) LEXI:** Your family want to meet me?

 **(10:07 AM)** well, I kinda mentioned that I’d rather be taking someone else to the awards, and they pried it out of me.

 **(10:08 AM) LEXI:** You mean they ask and you tell right away

 **(10:08 AM) LEXI:** soft

 **(10:08 AM)** Who taught you to chirp in English, I bet it was Snow >:(

 **(10:09 AM) LEXI:** One of us must be smart one, sorry is not you, because I go to awards too, so I am actually 'with you' already, no?

 **(10:09 AM)** wow okay so I guess I’ll tell them that my boyfriend doesn’t want to come for brunch because he thinks I’m dumb that will go over well okay bye

 **(10:10 AM) LEXI:** Okay, okay, I get message, boyfriend arrive in 4 minutes, will go find Troy for you

 **(10:10 AM)** Haha you think your funny

 **(10:10 AM)** Let’s just be clear that I expect YOU here in the next few minutes. Though there may not be pancakes left by then ;)

 **(10:11 AM) LEXI:** Is okay, I will just cry because boyfriend do not love me enough to share food.

 **(10:11 AM)** I love pancakes just a little more ;3

 **(10:12 AM) LEXI:** Hear sounds of heart breaking? It sounds like you breaking chair because pancake make you big.

 **(10:12 AM)** You need to stop talking to Snow, I swear.

 **(10:12 AM) LEXI:** Swearing bad ((((((

 **(10:13 AM)** Omg bye

At exactly 10:14, he opens the door to Alexei’s smirk. “Been outside since third text.”

“I knew it, you fucker, get in here.” Kent smiles behind the Russian’s back as he pushes Alexei further into the house.

“Swearing bad, Kent.”

“Shut the  _fuck_  up, Tater.”

Both are smiling as they enter the kitchen.

 

**LVA @ PVD – NOV 11, 2015 – PUCK DROP IN 5 HOURS**

**(2:00 PM)** See you on the ice, babe. Good luck you’re gonna need it >:)

 **(2:01 PM) Bae:** Will wipe ice with face, little rat. >:)

 **(2:01 PM)** We’ll see about that ;)

 **(2:02 AM)** See you soon )))

Kent slips his phone back into his pocket as he sits down for a team strategy meeting. He twirls a pen around in his hands, waiting for the others to file in. He is definitely excited; this is one of the only chances he gets to play Jack and Alexei during the season. He is excited about playing great hockey, and excited about possibly beating them both.

“Look who’s here early!”

“Ey Captaaaain!”

“Whoa is Parse setting a good example? What, are pigs flying? Are the Leafs going to win the Cup?”

Kent flips off his teammates, and they laugh as they sit down.

The coaches come into the room and everyone settles down. Tape of the Falconers come up on the screen, and Kent watches Alexei bulldoze his way through defensemen to get to the puck to the net.

Kent smiles.

It has taken six years, but he knows now that although hockey will always be a large part of his life, life is so much more than just hockey.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think, leave a comment if you wanna!


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